


shooting for the moon

by carissima



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Animal Transformation, Halloween, M/M, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-19
Updated: 2015-10-19
Packaged: 2018-04-27 04:06:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5033089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carissima/pseuds/carissima
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“It can’t be a curse,” Harry murmurs, half to himself. “Because everyone knows love is what breaks the curse. But you’re still a dog.” </p><p>or the one where harry’s adopted by a stray dog who seems remarkably human.</p>
            </blockquote>





	shooting for the moon

**Author's Note:**

> a huge thank you to everyone who listened to me whine about this and read this through in parts or in its whole, and a massive thank you to bee for the beta.
> 
> there are some minor character deaths offscreen, read the notes at the end if you want to know more.
> 
> you can find me [here](http://www.lovedyouless.tumblr.com)
> 
> happy halloween!

Harry moves in on a Thursday. The house smells stale and unused, trapped in a time warp of late 90s furniture and décor. Harry opens every window in the house, wedges open the back door with an old telephone directory and sits on the back doorstep, staring out at the woods that border his new property.

There are piles of unopened boxes waiting for him in almost every room. Harry spends a week ignoring most of them, picking stuff out only when he needs it. A lone saucepan sits on the kitchen side, next to a tin opener and one tall glass. In the bathroom, his toothbrush sits lonely next to his toothpaste. There’s one well-thumbed book lying casually on the sofa next to his uncharged phone.

The house echoes of the family who used to live there. Harry finds pencil marks behind the living room door with three sets of initials written against them. Whoever N was, they were the tallest, followed by R and then L languishing behind. The smallest bedroom still has a pair of rabbit curtains hung up, looking threadbare and faded. There’s dog hair everywhere, despite the estate agent’s assurance that they’d kept the house clean during the years it had stood empty.

There’s plenty to fix in the house too. The latch on the window into the utility room is broken. Everything needs to be stripped of its brightly coloured wallpaper and painted more neutral colours that suit Harry’s preferred taste. The old, tired kitchen needs to be ripped out and replaced. The bathroom upstairs and the downstairs loo need the same treatment.

But Harry finds himself sitting for hours with his back against the cream sofa, his long legs stretched out in front of him, staring at the height markers etched into the wall.

Harry’s been there two weeks before he notices the dog. He hasn’t really left the house, choosing to stay home and work his way through tinned soup and frozen ready meals that taste like ash in his mouth. He knows he’ll have to leave eventually, maybe head into town and do some grocery shopping or just to stretch his legs before the claustrophobia settles into his bones. He’s washing his solitary saucepan when he sees the dog sitting at the edge of the woods, his face turned towards the house. Even from here Harry can see his tongue lolling out and while he watches, the dog settles down to rest his head on his front paws, looking for all the world like he’s settling in for the night even though it’s only 7pm and he’s surely got a home to go to.

After that first sighting, Harry sees the dog all the time. He’s there when Harry sits out on the one garden chair he’s unpacked. It’s cold since it's September and the nights are drawing closer and colder, but Harry enjoys the chill in the air. The dog is big, Harry thinks – he’s not really an expert on dogs – with dark brown short fur, big soulful eyes and ears that prick up at every sound. He’s been coming closer each time, inching towards the house, and Harry feels a sense of accomplishment when he walks outside one evening to find the dog sitting on the patio, upright and alert but with what Harry imagines could be a hopeful look on his face.

Perhaps he’s been alone too long.

“Hey boy,” Harry says, his voice a little rough from misuse. He clears his throat and offers the dog a smile and his hand. Harry’s a little afraid at first, until the dog inches close enough to sniff at Harry’s fingers, his warm breath against Harry’s skin sending a shiver down his spine. It’s the first physical contact he’s had with, well, anyone in over three months. Then he finds himself crouched down on his knees, his hands full as the dog pushes his head playfully into Harry’s chest. He laughs, and the dog woofs happily, his tail wagging furiously while Harry discreetly checks to see if the dog has a collar.

“No owner?” Harry murmurs eventually when his search remains fruitless. “I know how you feel.”

The dog licks his fingers and Harry screws up his face while he wipes his hands on his thighs.

“Well, I’ve probably got some biscuits and water if you’re hungry,” Harry tells him.

The dog looks back at him solemnly for a moment before he pushes Harry off balance, toppling to the ground towards the back door.

“Alright,” he says with a laugh, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “I get it. You’re hungry and I’m just sitting here talking to you.”

He scrambles to his feet and walks inside, barely surprised when the dog pushes past him and heads straight for the kitchen before flopping down in front of the radiator that he hasn’t turned on yet, his huge brown eyes tracking Harry’s movements.

He’s forced to dig two bowls out of one of the boxes and he fills one with water and the other with broken biscuits that he hadn’t gotten around to opening before now. The dog must be ravenous because he chomps down the biscuits in three bites before he laps at the water greedily.

“I guess you really were hungry,” Harry says, digging through the box to pull the rest of the dishes out and putting them in the first cupboard he sees. “And that I’ll be making a trip into town after all to stock up on doggie treats.”

The dog woofs and it sounds like approval.

“I really need human conversation,” Harry mutters to himself. “If even the dog looks like he understands what I’m saying.”

He gets a reproving look from his house guest, who looks cosier and more at home in this house than Harry’s felt since he moved in.

*

Harry buys the dog – he refuses to claim ownership of a dog that’s been in his house for less than 24 hours – enough meals to last a week, more treats than any one dog could need and a toy bone to chew on. The town isn’t that big, but it has a tiny pet shop where Harry picks up a silver collar and a lead that the dog stares at mournfully when he pulls it out of its bag back at the house.

The dog stays.

He sleeps on Harry’s bed, mostly because Harry’s too lazy to swat him away. He drags Harry out for walks, leading the way through the woods and circling around Harry to hurry him along when he feels like Harry’s lagging behind. He eats a ridiculous amount of food, but he’s strangely polite about it. He always waits for Harry to sit down with his own dinner before tucking in, taking small bites rather than wolfing it all down in one go.

“You’ve got better table manners than Niall or Louis,” Harry tells him one night as he tucks into his salad and pasta. When the dog cocks his head and looks at him quizzically, Harry grins back. “Honestly. They’re animals. No manners at all.”

The dog finishes his food before trotting over to Harry and leaning his head on Harry’s knee like he’s listening to a story. Harry absently scratches behind his ears, swallowing his mouthful. “They call every other day,” he says softly. The dog’s ears fall backwards and he whines a little. “I know. I’ll call them back. I just need a little more time.”

The dog noses into his side, making him squirm a little and he shoves the dog’s face away with a laugh. “I can’t keep calling you dog, you know. You must have a name, huh boy?”

The dog woofs happily.

“Alright, well bark twice if I guess it right, yeah?”

The dog nods his head and Harry spares a moment to wonder if he truly has gone off the deep end if he believes a dog can actually understand what he’s saying.

“Buster,” he tries anyway.

The dog looks up at him reproachfully for a second before he lifts his head and flounces away, heading for the hearth. He circles around for a moment before he flops down, resting his head on his paws and stares at Harry.

“Alright, probably not a typical dog name,” Harry says, standing up and taking his plate over to the sink. He tries out a few more names as he washes up but the dog doesn’t react to any of them.

It becomes a fun distraction for the next few days. They go on long walks, with Harry holding the leash even though he never clips it onto the dog’s collar because he never strays far from Harry’s side.

“James.” The dog ignores him. “Remus. Sirius. Cedric. Ron. Harry. Charlie.”

He runs out of Harry Potter related names when they’re settling onto the sofa to watch a movie. He’s managed to dig out a few cushions to make it more comfortable and a lamp to soften the lighting.

“Alright, you can pick,” he tells the dog. He’s got his feet up on the coffee table and the dog is lying next to him, giving off enough warmth that Harry hasn’t had to light the fire yet even as the nights get cooler. He starts flicking through the channels slowly, but the dog stays silent until he reaches the movie channels and his head lifts up.

A rally of barks stills his thumb where it’s hovering over the control. When he looks up, it’s to find Christian Bale suiting up as Batman for the first time.

“Really?” Harry groans but he holds his hands up when the dog shoots him a glare. “Okay, okay, we can watch this really old film that I’ve seen before. Your choice.”

Harry’s not a huge Batman fan so he ends up reading while the dog watches the telly. He’s idly stroking the dog when his head lifts and he suddenly starts barking excitedly at the screen.

“What’s gotten into you?” Harry murmurs. On screen, Bruce is facing off with Ra’as al Ghul. He glances back at the dog, who is looking up at him expectantly before he woofs at the screen again. “Your name isn’t Batman,” Harry says, unsure. The dog actually shakes his head. “Alright. Ra’as? Ghul?”

He’s faced with a disappointed face and big, sad eyes.

“Okay, okay,” Harry says, sitting up and watching the screen carefully. “Christian? Liam?”

The dog starts a volley of barks, jumping off the sofa and racing up and down the room, stopping now and again to lick Harry’s fingers excitedly.

“Liam?” Harry tries again. The dog – or Liam, Harry supposes – wriggles between his legs and stares up at him, his tongue hanging out and grinning happily. “Liam. Well, hello Liam, it’s nice to meet you.”

Liam lifts his paws up onto the sofa and licks Harry’s cheek, making him groan and shove the exuberant dog away. “Alright, alright, no licking, Liam. No licking Harry.”

Liam grins at him but thankfully he keeps his tongue to himself.

“We can be mates now,” Harry tells him when they’re finally settled back on the sofa, Liam’s head resting on his thigh. He scratches behind Liam’s ears and laughs when Liam whines happily. “It felt rude not knowing your name. Especially since you keep sleeping in my bed.”

Liam perks up his ears at that but he doesn’t move, staying heavy on Harry where he’s lying.

“I guess there’s no danger of you leaving, huh?” Harry asks lightly.

Liam shifts enough that he can open his jaw and bite down gently on Harry’s thigh – not hard enough to hurt but with enough pressure that Harry feels it.

Harry relaxes just a little and lets his hand settle on Liam’s belly.

*

Their walks progress to runs, mostly because Liam keeps nudging at the back of Harry’s legs until he stumbles forward into a half run. Liam dances around him in circles when Harry digs out his old gym stuff and puts it on, tying his hair back in a bun and snapping a headband on to keep stray strands flicking into his eyes.

“Alright, alright,” Harry laughs as he herds Liam out of the back door. Or it’s possible he’s the one being herded. Either way, he’s soon jogging through the woods with Liam lolloping at his side, his tongue hanging out in a cheerful grin. Occasionally Liam races off ahead but he always comes back to urge Harry to increase his pace with a playful snap of his teeth at Harry’s heels. Soon they’re up to full runs as Harry’s stamina increases and he’s almost back to his old training levels. Except these are more fun because now he’s got someone to race with who keeps pushing him harder than his old trainer did. And Liam comes for free. Or at least just an endless supply of dog food, treats and cuddles.

*

Harry charges his phone for the first time in months on a Tuesday. His memory is full, filled with texts and voicemails that he deletes without reading or listening to. The phone rings a few hours later – an old ringtone that makes Harry’s skin crawl – but he doesn’t pick it up, even though Liam’s looking at him curiously, his head cocked and his eyes wide.

“It’s just Niall,” Harry tells him without even glancing at the phone. “He’ll call on Thursday at the same time. Louis will call on Sunday around midday, if he remembers.”

Liam pads closer and rests his head on Harry’s thigh, making low noises in his throat when Harry scratches his ears idly.

The phone beeps with a voicemail notification. Harry actually listens to this one because Liam’s staring at him soulfully and making him feel guilty.

_“Harry? Harry! I can’t believe your phone’s actually ringin’! Pick up next time, yeah? We miss you. Let one of us know you’re alright, yeah? Stop being a fuckin’ stranger because Louis is driving me fuckin’ mad and you know what he’s like. Just … call me. Or answer next time. Please.”_

“Shit,” Harry mumbles, burying his hands in his face. He concentrates on breathing in and out, trying to slow down his racing heart. A wet nose rubs against the back of his hand and he pulls Liam in for a hug, not even bothering to open his eyes as he hides his face in Liam’s fur. He has no idea how much time passes, but Liam doesn’t move an inch, letting Harry hold onto him for as long as he needs to. When he finally lifts his head, Liam’s fur is a little damp and Liam’s whimpering, trying to lick Harry’s face where his cheeks are slightly wet too.

“I’m okay,” he tells the dog with a shaky smile that doesn’t seem to fool Liam one bit. “Wanna go for a run?”

Liam looks a bit dubious but he sits back and wags his tail so Harry assumes it’s a yes.

They run through their usual path but Harry keeps pushing on past the point where they usually turn to head back. He runs until his lungs hurt and he can hardly breathe, weak enough that a knock from Liam has him stumbling to the ground where he lays, panting heavily. His view of the crisp, clear September sky is blocked soon enough with Liam’s concerned face.

“I’m okay,” Harry tells him again. It doesn’t feel any more like the truth than any of the other times he’s said it in the past three months. Exhaling slowly, he blinks up at Liam. “My entire family died in a plane crash four months ago and I think you’re the only thing holding me together.”

Liam whines loudly before he drops to the ground next to him, wriggling into his side until Harry lifts his arm to let Liam in. He nuzzles into Harry’s shoulder, one paw resting on Harry while his tail thumps against the fallen leaves on the ground.

Harry sighs and pets Liam’s head. “I’ll be okay,” he says quietly, and that feels a little more honest. “And I’ll call Niall back. Tomorrow. I promise.”

Liam barks gently and Harry takes it as a noise of approval.

Liam stays close to him as they trudge back to the house, nudging Harry up towards the bathroom without much subtlety. Harry strips off, huffing out a laugh when Liam very deliberately turns his back and sits down by the door, facing out into the hall.

“You’re the weirdest, most intelligent dog I’ve ever met,” Harry says, watching as Liam’s ears prick up. “I think you might also be my best friend.”

Liam woofs quietly, settling his head down on his paws, and Harry steps into the shower, wincing as the hot spray hits him and biting back a very unmanly squeal while he fumbles with the temperature.

*

He calls Niall the next day, and while he can’t seem to put many words together before his throat closes up and his eyes start to sting, Niall more than carries the conversation, telling Harry about all the latest trials and tribulations of Niall’s complicated love life and what Harry’s missed since he quit his life and moved halfway across the country.

“It’s good to talk to you, Harry,” Niall says when even he’s run out of conversation. “Don’t let it go so long next time, yeah?”

“I’ll pick up,” Harry promises shakily. Hearing Niall’s voice and knowing that life has gone on without him makes him feel weird and insecure, but it’s also reassuringly familiar. “Next time you call. If I can. I’ll pick up.”

“Alright,” Niall says as if it’s just that simple. “Louis will probably call. He uh, might have to blow off a bit of steam first though. You know how worried he gets.”

“I know.” Louis’ never made anything in Niall or Harry’s lives easier, but he does make them better. “I’ll pick up when he calls too.”

“Good,” Niall tells him. “I’ll see you soon, Harry.”

“Yeah, you too mate,” Harry says softly and the line goes dead.

He stares at his phone for a long time, lost in a world he can’t imagine going back to.

When he looks up, he’s faced with Liam standing in front of him with a ball in his mouth.

“You want to play fetch,” Harry says in disbelief, huffing out a laugh when Liam drops the ball into Harry’s lap. Zac Efron’s face stares back at him with Wildcats emblazoned behind him in red. “Where did you even find this?”

Liam’s tail wags furiously, his eyes bright with what Harry would describe as humour if Liam weren’t a dog.

“Come on then,” Harry says, figuring it’ll take his mind off of Niall and Louis and what he’s left behind.

He grabs his suede coat with the wool lining before trailing Liam outside into the back garden. Liam drops the ball at his feet before trotting away, keeping one eye on Harry as he goes. When he’s about halfway down, Harry lobs the ball, laughing helplessly as Liam immediately pounces, his legs carrying him faster that Harry’s seen him run before. When he trots back, looking smug with Vanessa Hudgen’s boobs between his teeth, Harry leans down to rub his head before wrestling the ball away. This time he doesn’t hold back and launches the ball almost to the end of the garden. The dog is almost a blur when he runs but he’s soon back with the ball, his tail wagging excitedly.

“This isn’t going to get old for you is it?” Harry murmurs before he throws the ball again. Liam barks excitedly as he flies down the garden. “There are more interesting things we can do, you know, Liam.”

Liam drops the ball at his feet obediently, lifting his head expectantly towards Harry.

“Or not,” he says, laughing as he drops down to wrap his arms around Liam. The dog is shaking, either from the cold or the exercise or pure excitement – Harry’s not entirely sure. “Thank you,” he whispers before he shoves Liam and his tongue away, wiping his hand over his face where Liam had just licked him. “Oh, so we’re playing it that way, huh?”

He fakes a throw that fools Liam for about half a stride before the dog looks back at him and woofs happily. His second throw launches but he races after Liam, trailing by a few strides before he drops to the grass and lassos his arms around Liam’s neck. They tussle on the damp grass for a few minutes until Harry’s breathless with laughter, flopping back on the ground to look up at the clouds in the sky.

He can’t remember the last time he laughed so much.

*

“Liam, c’mon,” Harry pleads. He’s dangling the leash in the most enticing way he can think of but Liam’s still sitting firmly on the floor, glaring at him and growling anytime he comes close to hooking it to Liam’s collar. “You know you can’t go out without a leash. Stop being a baby and let me put it on, or you’ll have to stay here.”

Liam’s expression upgrades to disdainful.

“Just put the leash on, Liam,” Harry says in his sternest voice, shaking the leash as he stalks towards the dog.

After a brief, very undignified battle that neither of them comes out of well, Harry drags Liam out of the door and locks up. The walk into town is silent and Harry eventually figures out that Liam’s actually giving him the silent treatment.

Well, two can play at that game.

He ties Liam to the post outside the small supermarket, not bothering to hide his smirk when Liam looks up at him in outrage. “Sorry, no dogs allowed,” he says, pointing at the barely legible sign in the window. Even though he’s gone inside with Liam a handful of times before and no one’s said a word. Liam sniffs loudly and turns his back to Harry, laying down and flicking his tail in Harry’s general direction.

Harry’s still grinning when he gets to the till with a basket full of dog food and treats that he’s totally going to bribe Liam with when they get home.

“Is that your dog outside?”

Harry turns as he collects his money from the cashier, flashing her a quick smile before he turns his attention to the girl behind him. “You mean the moody monster who’s sulking because I left him outside?”

The girl laughs, passing her own change to the cashier. “That’s the one,” she says, turning towards him with a smile as they walk to the door together. “He’s adorable.”

“He’s a spoilt brat is what he is,” Harry says loudly. He grins when Liam’s ears pin back. “Don’t encourage him.”

“So you must be the one who bought the old Payne house,” she says conversationally. “Haven’t seen much of you since you moved in.”

“I’ve been uh, fixing the place up.” Harry wonders if putting a few cushions out and making his bed every morning counts as fixing the place up.

“It probably needed it,” the girl tells him, leaning in a little closer. He sees Liam turn his head out of the corner of his eye but he’s not willing to forgive the stubborn dog just yet. “It’s been on the market for about 10 years.”

“I guess it just needed a little love and attention.”

“I guess so,” the girl says flirtily before she glances over his shoulder and her face falls a little. And now that he’s paying attention, he can hear the low-level growl coming from Liam.

“Oh shush,” Harry tells him without turning around. “And be nice to …”

“Beth,” she says brightly.

Liam’s growl intensifies and when Harry finally turns around, the stupid dog is straining at his leash, all teeth bared and he’s staring right at Beth.

“I’m sorry, he’s not normally like this,” Harry says with a frown.

“No it’s okay,” Beth says, reaching out to touch Harry’s wrist. A sharp bark from Liam stops her though and she retracts her hand with a wince. “Wow. He’s big, huh? Um, it was nice to meet you anyway.”

“Harry,” he supplies helpfully.

“And it was nice to meet your dog too,” she says politely, which Harry appreciates. “Perhaps he’ll warm up to me a bit next time.”

“He’ll be on his best behaviour or else,” Harry says firmly.

Beth waves before she turns to walk away, leaving Harry to stare down at an unrepentant Liam, who’s stopped growling and now seems to be grinning up at him. “You are the worst,” Harry mutters, untying the leash and keeping a firm hold on the handle even when Liam seems determined to jerk his shoulder out of its socket. “No treats for you when we get home.”

Liam lets the leash slacken and whines forlornly.

“Maybe one treat,” Harry grumbles.

Liam playfully nudges into him.

“Fine. Two.”

*

Harry’s cold when he wakes up. Confused, he reaches out to cuddle Liam closer but the dog isn’t on the bed with him. He can vaguely make out the shape of his errant dog by the window, his paws pressed up against the pane of glass while he whines and whimpers quietly.

“What’s up Liam?” Harry croaks, rubbing at his eyes and sitting up. “Something spook you?”

Liam woofs once, still looking up through the window.

Harry yelps when he climbs out of bed and his bare feet touch the cold wooden floor. “Sometimes I wish you weren’t a dog,” he mutters, reaching for his dressing gown and wrapping it tightly around himself for warmth. “Then you could actually use your words instead of me guessing in the bloody dark.”

He moves to stand next to Liam and looks up too. “It’s just the moon,” Harry says, glancing down at Liam in confusion. “Looks like it’s nearly a full one, but you’ve seen the moon before, buddy.”

To his utter surprise, Liam tips his head back and lets out a long, pained howl.

“Alright, alright” Harry mutters. “You like the moon. You wanna go run outside for a bit?”

Liam’s tail wags and he drops his paws down to the floor before padding over to the closed bedroom door and waiting impatiently for Harry to catch up.

“It’s bloody freezing and you’re insane,” Harry tells the dog while they make their way downstairs. Liam bounds ahead and lifts his paw to the back door, whining again. He only stops when Harry unlocks the door and pushes it open, watching Liam race off down the garden without a second look back. “Dumb, idiotic, crazy dog.”

He can’t really see anything in the pitch black night but occasionally he hears the rustle of leaves and a far-off bark. Tucking his legs underneath him, he curls up on the bench and leans his head against the wooden armrest, yawning.

*

Stirring slowly, Harry wakes up utterly confused as to why it’s so damn bright. And cold. His muscles scream in protest as he sits up, immediately looking out for Liam but the dog is nowhere to be seen. There’s a blanket pooled in his lap though that only Liam could have dragged onto him somehow – Harry’s given up trying to figure out how a dog can be that damn smart.

“Liam!” he calls out hoarsely, but there’s no answering bark or the pounding of paws signalling Liam’s imminent arrival. “Alright, but you’ll be back when you’re hungry.”

It takes a shower, his favourite trackies and hoodie and a bowl of porridge to warm him up. He keeps an ear open for Liam but he still hasn’t turned up by dinnertime and Harry’s starting to get worried. A walk in the woods doesn’t uncover him, despite Harry’s repeated calls and a constant vague fear that he’ll come across Liam injured or-. Worse.

He eventually goes to bed, worried and anxious and with the back door unlocked and slightly ajar, just in case Liam appears in the night.

Sleep evades him for most of the night and he has to drag another duvet out of one of his unpacked boxes to stay warm.

*

The house is too empty now with just him in it, so Harry trudges into town to buy groceries he absolutely doesn’t need.

He doesn’t walk down the pet food aisle.

He does, however, bump into Beth again and although his flirting skills are rusty and half-hearted at best, he finds himself asking her out for lunch. And not just because he’s lonely without Liam to talk to or laugh at.

“So are you still settling in then?” Beth asks while they wait for their food to arrive.

“Yeah, it could probably take a while,” Harry tells her with a wide flash of a smile. “Half my stuff is still in boxes.”

“And like, there’s nothing weird about the house?” she asks completely not-casually.

“Weird?”

“Like, the rumour around town was that the house was haunted,” she explains, flashing a smile at the waiter as he serves their food.

“Thank you,” Harry murmurs, picking up his knife. “Haunted, huh? Can’t say I’ve noticed any ghosts rattling chains around the place, or weird scratching noises in the middle of the night.”

“Well, that’s good,” Beth says, sounding disappointed as she twirls her fork in her salad. “They say a boy died there ten years ago, and that’s why the family just left town without a word. It was really sad. Nicola was in my year at school and she was always complaining about her little brother but you could tell she loved him really.”

“Yeah,” Harry says, desperately trying not to think about Gemma and how much he’d pestered her as a kid.

“It was all really weird, anyway,” Beth tells him, leaning in a little closer and dropping her voice down low. “There was no funeral or anything. Just a rumour and poof, they were gone. I can’t remember what his name was though. No one really talks about it anymore, except for the haunted house.”

“Which isn’t haunted,” Harry reminds her but he’s almost certain she’s not listening to him.

“Lee, maybe,” she says thoughtfully. “Or Liam? Something like that. He was adorable though. All chubby cheeks and too much energy. It’s terribly sad.”

All the blood rushes out of Harry’s head. “Sorry I-uh, excuse me.” Harry stumbles to his feet and heads blindly towards the back of the café where he walks into the bathroom and locks himself in a stall. He slides to the cold tiled floor and stares at his trembling hands.

Liam. She’d said Liam. He’s seen the marks on the wall, the N, R and L. Nicola. Liam.

He needs to go home. He needs to find Liam. He needs to reassure himself that it’s a coincidence, that it’s not possible that the dog he’s adopted is somehow connected to the boy who died ten years ago.

It’s with shaky legs that he walks back to the table and offers Beth a smile. He somehow gets through the rest of his lunch and he knows Beth won’t be eagerly waiting for him to call since he barely manages to keep up his side of the conversation. He pays for lunch and tips wildly, too flustered in his rush to get out of the café and back home to see if Liam’s there waiting for him. Beth looks bemused and little put out as they say their goodbyes but Harry really just needs to be home right now.

He ends up running most of the way home, fumbling with the door lock and shouting Liam’s name when he finally gets inside. There’s no welcoming bark or pitter patter of paws though. He heads out to the woods once more, calling Liam’s name more urgently until it’s getting dark and his voice is about to give out.

Harry sleeps downstairs on the sofa, staying warm by the fire and close to the back door in case Liam does come home.

The next day drags on. Harry keeps his eyes on the back door and his ears open for any sound of Liam, but everything stays stubbornly silent.

Harry spends another night on the sofa, still in the same trackies and hoodie he’s been in for almost two days. The house is a mess but he’s not in the mood to tidy up, choosing to watch Batman Begins for the third time in a row and falling asleep somewhere around the time Liam Neeson tries to derail the Gotham monorail.

*

“Gerroff,” Harry mumbles, shoving a wet nose away from his face before his eyes fly open and he’s staring at familiar, beautiful brown eyes. “Liam. Oh thank fuck. I missed you.”

He throws himself at the dog, his arms wrapping around Liam’s neck as they roll around on the floor and Liam woofs quietly into Harry’s chest. “I thought you’d run out on me, buddy. Thought I was never gonna see you again.”

Liam licks his nose.

“Ew,” Harry laughs, scratching Liam’s head. “Have you been running out in the woods for three days because you stink.”

Liam barks sharply once.

“Alright alright, I know I probably stink too,” Harry admits. “Shower for me, bath for you.”

An hour later, they’re both clean and scoffing down breakfast.

“I wish you could tell me where you’ve been,” Harry says, pushing away his empty plate and looking down at Liam where he’s licking his bowl clean with a sheepish look. “And why you left.”

Liam drops his head down onto his paws and looks up at Harry dolefully.

“So I had lunch with Beth two days ago,” Harry tells him, feeling a little smug when Liam’s eyes narrow a little. “She filled me in on a little history. About the boy who lived here with his family, who disappeared one day and then his family just left. Until I bought the place. She thought this place might be haunted with the ghost of the little boy.”

Liam whimpers but he doesn’t look away.

“She couldn’t remember his name,” Harry says, standing up and circling the table to crouch down in front of Liam, reaching out to stroke his head gently. “But she thinks it might have been Liam.”

Liam’s ears fold down and he stares up at Harry mournfully.

“I’ve been thinking about it for two days,” Harry murmurs. “I’ve been thinking all kinds of crazy things. Things like reincarnation. Or possession. All the classics. But maybe it’s just coincidence. Is it a coincidence, Liam? Or are you the boy that lived here, and maybe died here?”

Liam blinks up at him.

“I wish you could talk,” Harry says with a humourless laugh. “I wish you could tell me that I’m being an idiot and of course you’re not a human trapped in a dog’s body.”

Liam woofs sadly.

“It can’t be a curse,” Harry murmurs, half to himself. “Because everyone knows love is what breaks the curse. But you’re still a dog.”

There’s a shimmer in Liam’s eyes before he lifts his head and licks Harry’s cheek. Then he’s up on his feet and racing away upstairs, and Harry’s just grateful he didn’t bolt for the back door to disappear for a few more days.

Liam doesn’t come down for the rest of the day, hiding up in one of the empty bedrooms, the one with the bunny curtains that Harry still hasn’t taken down. Harry leaves him alone because his own emotions and thoughts are twisting and turning in his head until he doesn’t know what to think anymore.

He leaves a bowl of food and water outside the bedroom door before he goes to bed early, curling up in the middle of the bed. Liam slinks into the room a few minutes later, leaping up onto the bed and snuggling into Harry’s waiting arms. He’s solid and warm and Harry’s missed him.

“I’m sorry,” Harry whispers into the dark.

Liam huffs a warm breath into his neck. It sends a shiver down Harry’s spine and he cuddles the dog closer before he closes his eyes and wills himself to sleep.

*

When Halloween rolls around, Harry’s running around the house in excitement. Liam’s following him, mostly getting in his way and tripping him up, but he’s just as excited as Harry so he can’t even be annoyed when he stumbles over Liam’s paws for the fifth time.

“You’re going to end up killing me,” Harry tells him solemnly. Or as solemnly as he can when Liam’s wearing a grey Batman costume complete with a doggy cape and a mask that keeps slipping over his eyes. He’d ordered it on eBay two weeks ago and Liam’s entire body had started shaking when Harry had pulled the costume out of the bag. Then he’d spent almost an hour staring at himself in the mirror while Harry had left him to it so he could put on his own nerd costume. His glasses kept falling off his nose and he still can’t get used to his flat, straightened hair, while Liam keeps shooting him odd looks and sniffing at him, like he’s making sure he’s still Harry underneath the costume.

Every kid that knocks on their door is completely besotted with Liam and his costume. He stands patiently and lets them all pet him and he even poses for pictures for a few equally besotted parents.

The smaller kids stop coming by and then they get a wave of brave teenagers who’ve clearly heard the rumours about Harry’s haunted house. Liam’s not so docile when they start arriving though, standing guard and letting out low growls whenever someone steps a little too close to the door.

“Easy boy,” Harry says when the last round disappear down the path, glancing back towards the house every few steps like they’re expecting to see a ghost hanging out of the upstairs window or something, the full moon lighting their way. “Alright, they were the last ones, I think. Which leaves us with two mini-packs of haribo, some chocolate skeletons and the rest of the strawberry laces.”

Liam trots off to settle himself in his spot on the sofa while Harry disappears upstairs to wash his hair and change clothes.

“Something spooky, yeah?” Harry says when he flops down onto the sofa, dislodging Liam from his comfortable spot and laughing when Liam growls playfully at him, nipping at his sleeve for good measure.

*

It’s dark in his bedroom when he wakes up, cold and shivering.

“Liam,” he mumbles, feeling around blindly for the dog but he’s not there. Harry reaches over for the light and blinks in surprise at the boy sitting on the end of his bed, wrapped in a blanket. He’s too shocked to yell or move or do anything other than stare.

And just keep staring.

The boy – or man, since he looks to be in his mid-20s – is lean and broad, with brown wavy hair that falls into his eyes. His brown eyes, which look terribly, awfully familiar, staring back at him in terror. He’s clutching the silver collar like his life depends on it.

“Liam?” Harry whispers shakily.

“Harry,” Liam rasps.

Harry lurches forward and throws his arms around Liam who, he discovers, is trembling quite badly. He digs out an old pair of trackies and a shirt for Liam to pull on and then he pulls the duvet up around them both, wrapping them together warmly.

“You’re real,” Harry murmurs unsteadily. “You’re really here. Is this – is it permanent? Are you staying?”

Liam gives a tiny shake of his head and Harry’s heart drops. “I uh- it’s just the full moon,” he croaks, and Harry wriggles out of their little blanket fort to grab the glass of water he’d left by the side of the bed, a side-effect of eating too much sugar. Liam takes it gratefully and downs it in one before he clears his throat and manages a shaky smile. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” Harry tells him, placing the glass on the floor and quickly getting back into the fort. He curls his hand around Liam’s wrist and holds on lightly. “So, the full moon?”

“Before, you said it couldn’t be a curse,” Liam says with a flush, looking adorable. “Except it is. A curse, I mean.”

Harry keeps quiet, and just focuses on stroking his thumb over Liam’s wrist where his pulse is racing.

“I was playing with my sisters in the cemetery.” Liam’s eyes go a little glassy at the memory. “I don’t remember what happened exactly, but this woman just appeared. She was so angry. Screaming and shouting at Ruth until Ruth was crying. So I stepped between them and took the blame. Then the next thing I remember is looking up at my sisters, who looked horrified, and running away as fast as I could.”

“Oh, Liam.” This time Harry does reach out to pet him, which seems to soothe Liam a little.

“They moved away eventually, when I didn’t come back,” Liam continues in a softer voice. “The house stayed empty, but it still smelled like home.”

“You broke the latch on the window,” Harry says in realisation.

“I just wanted to be home,” Liam whispers before Harry folds him into his arms and holds on tight. It’s a long time before Liam speaks again. “I’m only like this on full moons.”

“That’s probably because you’re a werewolf,” Harry states calmly.

Liam’s head snaps up and he growls a little at Harry before he realises what he’s doing and freezes.

Harry laughs but his hands are gentle where they’re wrapped around Liam’s arms. “It’s okay. It actually explains a lot, you know. And it’s better than thinking I was going mad, wondering why you seemed so human.”

“Sorry about that,” Liam says sheepishly, struggling to contain a yawn.

It’s easy for Harry to pull Liam down onto the mattress and they easily shift into their usual sleeping positions with Liam resting his head on the crook of Harry’s shoulder. Harry lets his hand trail down Liam’s back, feeling the quiet strength in his muscles.

“You’re the best mate I’ve ever had,” Liam whispers, his hand resting gently on Harry’s chest. “I wanted to tell you before I, you know, turned back.”

“How long do we have?” Harry whispers back.

“Three days and three nights,” Liam sighs.

Harry continues to stroke his back until he hears Liam’s breathing even out. He presses his lips to Liam’s forehead and prays for more time.

*

When Harry wakes up to find Liam sprawled over his chest, he decides to just stay put and wait for Liam to wake up naturally. After all, it’s not like he’s got anything to do except learn every single thing he can about Liam. Starting with the way he sleeps with his mouth slightly open or how his hand is curled up on Harry’s chest, making a fist against his shirt.

He learns that Liam loves showers. Like, a ridiculous amount. Liam also sings. Loudly. And if Harry leans against the wall outside the bathroom to listen, it’s only because Liam’s voice is really nice. He learns that Liam’s almost the same size as him, except that his shirts stretch just a little over Liam’s chest.

Harry learns that he’s really into Liam’s chest.

He learns that Liam likes tea with too much sugar and he adds sugar to his cornflakes. He learns that Liam’s sheepish face is utterly adorable and pretty much irresistible. He learns that Liam’s hands are smaller than his, and that Liam likes holding his hand as they walk through the woods together. He learns all of Liam’s favourite places in the woods and why, and he learns about Nicola and Ruth, and how much Liam misses them. He learns that Batman is Liam’s favourite superhero – although he could have guessed that – and he learns that Liam’s energy levels haven’t dropped just because he’s human.

He learns that Liam makes a really comfy pillow. After dinner they settle in front of the telly and Harry cuddles into Liam’s side, arguing that it’s only fair since Liam’s spent months leaning on him. He learns that Liam doesn’t mind all that much. And that he likes to play with Harry’s hair, twirling strands around his finger like it’s a novelty.

Harry learns that he’s missed cuddling up in bed at night to someone, laughing when cold feet touch and figuring out how exactly they fit together.

“I’ve never slept with anyone before,” Liam admits in a small voice when they’ve finally fallen into a comfortable pose with Harry curled up around Liam’s back, his hand resting lightly on Liam’s hip and his other hand free to tangle in Liam’s curls. “It’s nice.”

“Yeah, it is,” Harry rumbles against his back. “Now go to sleep, Liam.”

He can almost feel Liam’s pout even if he can’t see it. He smiles into Liam’s borrowed shirt which smells a bit like both of them now and pulls Liam just a little closer.

*

Harry’s eyes blink open. Liam’s pulling back, an embarrassed flush already creeping across his cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” he says immediately, dropping his hands from where they’d been curled into Harry’s shirt. “I thought you were asleep and I know that’s not really an excuse but I just wanted to see – I’m sorry.”

“Hey,” Harry croaks, moving quickly to drag Liam back down against his chest. His head is still foggy with sleep but the impression of Liam’s soft lips against his lingers. “It’s okay. It’s more than okay, yeah?”

Liam bites down on his bottom lip, which only serves to draw Harry’s intent gaze, before he leans in again and presses his lips against Harry’s. It’s too hard with too much pressure. A gentle hand to Liam’s cheek and a slight easing back solves the problem though and Harry discovers something else about Liam.

He’s a fast learner.

They kiss forever, slow and lazy and without intent. Harry likes the way Liam’s facial hair scrapes against his skin and the way Liam’s fingers keep digging into his skin like he’s forgotten how to use them or doesn’t realise how strong he is.

Harry pins Liam against the bathroom wall, both of them only covered by towels wrapped around their waist and kisses him until Liam’s breathless with laughter and shoving him away. “I’ve got to get dressed and you stink,” he says with a grin that Harry finds utterly irresistible.

Liam nuzzles into his neck when he’s making breakfast, making Harry spill milk everywhere while he learns that Harry has a bit of a thing for being manhandled against the worktop.

They make out against a tree until Harry groans because his back is aching against the hard bark. He’s got a leaf in his hair that Liam extracts with a giggle and he learns that Liam’s faster than him on two legs as well as four when they chase each other through the woods, laughter ringing in the air.

When they’re in bed – at some ridiculous hour because Harry faked a few yawns and Liam let him – Harry tells Liam about his family. He hasn’t spoken about them in months because every time he thinks about them and all that he’s lost, his chest tightens and he can’t breathe. But with Liam holding him and brushing his hands through Harry’s hair, it’s easier somehow.

He tells Liam about how Gemma used to tease him all the time and how perfect his mum was. He tells Liam about how supportive his dad was and how he never got to see them as much as he wanted to, but they were always there when he called.

And when he can’t talk anymore, Liam kisses him softly until Harry’s drowsy and falling asleep in Liam’s arms.

*

“So, just a few more hours then,” Harry says as brightly as he can over dinner. They’ve spent the day doing nothing more than being together, other than a quick trip into town where Harry had made Liam tell him what dog food he preferred while Liam scowled at him. “Then back to doggie treats and you hogging the bed.”

Harry’s laugh dies in his throat though when Liam ducks his head and won’t look at him.

“Liam?” Harry says carefully. “Everything alright?”

“I can’t,” Liam says in a voice low enough that Harry has to strain to hear. “I can’t stick around anymore.”

Harry’s chest feels too tight and he has to hold himself back from lunging at Liam and never letting him go. “What do you mean?” he asks flatly. “Why can’t you stay?”

“Because it’s not fair to you.” Liam finally looks up and he looks torn but determined. Harry’s well acquainted with that particular stubborn set to Liam’s jaw. “It’s not fair to stay when I can’t be, like, normal. You deserve more than that. Everyone does. That’s why I let my family think that I’d died because eventually they’d be able to move on and not be stuck here, waiting for the full moon. I didn’t want them to be tied here. To me.”

“What if I want to be tied to you,” Harry says quietly. He reaches out and takes Liam’s hand over the table, squeezing it gently. “I wasn’t lying before. I love you.”

Liam’s face drops and he stares at Harry sadly. “No, no. You’ve got to let me go, Harry. It’s only fair.”

“Why not?”

“Because all I can give you are huge food bills and misery,” Liam laughs but it doesn’t sound happy. It sounds like a broken heart. “I can’t be there when you need me. I can’t be who you need me to be.”

“You make me happy,” Harry tells him. His fingers are digging into the back of Liam’s hands painfully but he can’t loosen his grip. “I can’t lose you too.”

“It’ll be harder if I stay though, you can see that right?” Liam pleads. “You’ll get sick of me disappearing eventually. And you’ll start to hate me. I don’t want you to hate me, Harry. Please. Don’t make me stay.”

“Just a bit longer,” Harry begs. He gets to his feet and circles the table, not letting go of Liam for a second until he’s pushing Liam’s chair back and dropping down into Liam’s lap. He cradles Liam to his chest, arms wrapped around him painfully tightly. “Don’t go. Please.”

They stay wrapped up together until the light fades and they’re left in complete darkness. When Harry finally feels ready to move away, he pulls Liam upstairs, leaving their dirty dishes where they are because he’ll have plenty of time to wash them later but he’s only got Liam for a few more hours.

They undress in silence and climb into bed before Harry scoots over to wrap his arms around Liam. They tangle themselves together, Harry stroking Liam’s hair while Liam’s hand moves over his chest, marking out his nipples. Harry knows it’s just curiosity on Liam’s part so he valiantly ignores his dick and the growing interest it’s showing in proceedings and lets Liam poke and pinch his nipples. All four of them.

Eventually though exhaustion starts to win and Harry closes his eyes, his hand resting on Liam’s neck for reassurance that he’s still there.

He thinks he hears Liam whisper goodbye in his ear but he’s already half-asleep.

*

He wakes up to a face full of fur and a familiar face blinking sadly up at him.

“We’ll work it out,” Harry promises him, burying his face in Liam’s fur. He feels like whining too when he hears Liam’s low whimper. “I just want to keep you.”

*

Liam stays.

They go for long walks and play fetch and curl up in front of the telly together on the long, cold November nights. Liam’s still himself, but there’s a sadness in his eyes sometimes when he looks up at Harry. And Harry can’t shake the anxious feeling that whatever he has with Liam is going to disappear one day. That Liam will just leave him behind. Alone.

*

Harry’s wide awake and waiting for Liam on the night of the next full moon. Liam’s been resting in his lap, his head on Harry’s knee while they wait for the hours to pass slowly. Just before midnight, Liam woofs and sits up before scooting out of the room. A few minutes later, Liam’s head pops around the door and Harry laughs in relief, holding out his arms.

“I missed you,” Harry says into Liam’s shoulder. “I missed you so much.”

“I was right here,” Liam tells him. “I said I would be.”

“Don’t leave me,” Harry says, knowing he sounds like a broken record. But he just needs to hear Liam say it over and over again until maybe he’ll start to believe it. And Liam will believe in him.

“Not yet,” Liam promises, and it’s not enough. It’s not nearly enough but he’ll take what he can get today.

When Liam kisses him, there’s a desperation behind it that wasn’t there before. Harry lets himself be manhandled down onto the bed and when Liam ruts against him, he can’t resist. They’re both hard, their movements frantic as Harry urges Liam on after he’s kicked off his own joggers so they’re naked and rubbing dry against each other.

“Like this,” Harry gasps, reaching down to wrap his hand around both of them and smearing his thumb over their heads, swallowing Liam’s gasps with his mouth. He uses their precome to slick them both up and it's easier then, both of them panting between kisses and scrambling to get closer somehow.

“Harry,” Liam moans before he arches up, his hips pressing down into Harry’s and then he’s coming over Harry’s fist and his dick, trembling as he tries to hold himself up over Harry.

“So fucking hot,” Harry mutters, glancing down to see his come-coated hand around his dick.

“Your turn,” Liam pants, spreading his legs so he can straddle Harry’s thighs and watch his come smeared all over Harry’s dick. “Please, Harry.”

Harry lifts himself up off the bed, his free hand latching behind Liam’s neck and tugging him down for a sloppy, filthy kiss. And he comes so hard he might pass out for a moment, waking up to find his own belly smeared with come and Liam lying next to him, staring at the mess in wonder.

“That was amazing,” Liam says when he realises Harry’s conscious again. “Can we do it again?”

“Yeah,” Harry says with a laugh. “It’s a good thing you’re not very experienced with all this otherwise you’d be judging me for having such a hair trigger.”

“A hair trigger?” Liam repeats questioningly while Harry slips out of bed and crosses the room to disappear into the bathroom and clean himself off.

“I just came embarrassingly quickly,” Harry yells through the door, dampening a cloth and wiping himself off. Then he takes a few seconds to stare at himself in the mirror, grinning at the stubble rash he’s already developed from Liam’s kisses. When he walks back into the room, Liam’s lounging on the bed looking pretty and rumpled. Harry bounds onto the bed, grinning when Liam yelps and grabs hold of him to stop them both rolling off the bed. “I’ve got a reputation to uphold, you know. Millions see me as some kind of sex symbol. And you’ve just ruined that in less than five minutes.”

“Are you saying you could go longer?” Liam asks with wide, solemn eyes. “Like, we could do that and it’d feel that good for longer?”

“Liam,” Harry says, shaking his head and shoving him back so he can settle in the curve of Liam’s arms. “Oh Liam. You have no idea.”

“That sounds ace,” Liam whispers excitedly.

“It is,” Harry agrees with a chuckle. “But this was amazing too.”

Liam hums happily and they both fall silent, holding onto each other perhaps a little too tightly. “Hey, Harry?”

“Yeah, babe?”

“Don't you have a life somewhere? Friends?”

Harry turns his face into Liam’s neck and presses a soft kiss against Liam’s birthmark. “Kinda?”

“Oh,” Liam says, sounding small. “Then like, isn’t that another reason we shouldn’t be doing this? Like, aren’t they going to visit, and you'll go visit them?”

“No,” Harry says firmly, nibbling tiny kisses along the length of Liam’s neck, humming happily when Liam arches away from him to give him better access to his beautiful jaw. “I don't have a life to go back to. Not since the accident. No one knows I’m here. And I’m not planning to go back any time soon. So we can figure it out, okay? You’re not getting rid of me just yet.”

“Not yet,” Liam says sadly. “But I can’t stay forever. It’s not fair. You can’t stick around for just three days a month.”

“I’m not,” Harry says, shifting to straddle Liam’s hips and continue his exploration of Liam’s jawline with his lips. He wriggles a little when Liam’s hands settle on his hips. “You’re forgetting that I quite like dog Liam. I liked dog Liam a lot before I knew he was also this incredibly fit, gorgeous, sweet, charming man too. So really, it’s entirely worth it.”

“But what if you want kids?” Liam asks quietly.

Harry lifts his head to stare down at Liam. “Aren’t you getting a bit ahead of yourself?” he asks breathlessly, even though his heart is pounding and his mind is racing ahead to visions of dark haired little boys playing fetch with Liam and little girls with curls being held in Liam’s strong, human arms.

“I’m trying to make you see how pointless this is,” Liam says, running his hands up and down Harry’s thighs. “What about when you want to introduce me to your friends and you have to make excuses for why I’m not around for 27 days of the month?”

“That’s just semantics,” Harry says dismissively. He wants to believe they can make this work, that he can have Liam forever if he just wants it enough, and nothing in his life has ever taught him differently. Not even losing his family. “Please. I want to keep you forever.”

“Me too,” Liam murmurs, tugging Harry down until he’s plastered against Liam’s chest and clinging on for all he’s worth. “I want to keep you too. So much.”

Harry doesn’t let go, not even when he feels Liam’s breathing even out, just turning his head so that he can see Liam’s face in the moonlight. He looks more relaxed in sleep, although there’s a faint tightness around his eyes, and every now and again he’ll mutter something unintelligible and tighten his hold on Harry like he’s making sure Harry’s still there..

Harry knows the feeling.

The silvery light of the full moon filters through the curtains to where they lie on the bed, framing them in silvery rays and casting a shadow behind them.

**Author's Note:**

> harry's family dies offscreen in a plane crash, set before the fic and only mentioned briefly.


End file.
